As Lou Reed acknowledges at the album's close, it did take him and John Cale a while - about three years - to get around to making Songs for Drella, their tribute to Andy Warhol. But regardless of when it happened, it at least served to get one of the more complicated songwriting duos in the history of music back together for another crack at it, and would foreshadow the Velvet Underground reunion two years later.I had somewhat expected to hate Songs for Drella, as Reed's output in this era was less that of a songwriter, and more of a writer of narratives who just happened to have music that he would talk over. But here, it works, and I feel like I could pump out a couple thousand words about it. Like on New York, the emphasis falls not on the music, but on the story, which is the life of Andy Warhol. I found myself drawing odd parallels between the arc of Songs for Drella, Zen Arcade and American Idiot: boy leaves small town, hits the city, city is overwhelming, boy grows and changes, takes on new persona, etc.
Besides the opener, "Smalltown," which I was already familiar with, due to its inclusion on Lou Reed's Animal Serenade live album, the first track that stood out was "Open House," which features some seriously grim keyboards, and when Cale's voice kicks in at the end in harmony with Reed's - something never really attempted on a Velvet Underground record, so it sounds particularly surprising here - it was apparent to me that this was more than something tossed off as a quick tribute. There's real feeling and emotion driving these songs, even if Reed still has to be sarcastic about it (sincerity isn't his best virtue).
"Style it Takes" features oddly self-referential lyrics about the Velvet Underground, although they're spoken from the perspective of Warhol, and the minimal, soft music fits directly on the continuum that runs between Paris 1919 and later records like HoboSapiens. One thing that stands out here is that nearly twenty-three years later after they ended their initial creative partnership, Cale's willing to assert himself via his keyboards, and he's not afraid to make things actually sound pretty and more...well, musical, for a change. But then the screeching viola of "Images" disrupts everything, and it serves as an excellent son for "The Black Angel's Death Song."
The somber, delicate "Slip Away (A Warning)" fully encapsulates the album's tone - fragile, perhaps a little timid, possibly in an attempt to describe Warhol himself - and when "I Believe" comes in, which matter-of-factly describes Warhol's shooting at the hands of Valerie Solanas, it's hard to believe that this wasn't a difficult song to put to paper - but then again, an almost bouncy melody is tacked on, so maybe they still weren't comfortable with being completely sincere.
Possibly the album's best track, "Forever Changed" stands out from the rest of the record by presenting more of a driving - but not quite rock - tempo and sense of building towards something, which is perhaps made more impressive how forceful the song is even in the absence of drums - a trademark that runs through the whole record.
Reed gets the last word on "Hello It's Me," the album's closing track, and it's clear he still has yet to reconcile a few of his feelings about his relationship with Warhol. There's still a bit of resentment or uneasiness in the lyrics, and things aren't all nicely wound up; but when he closes the album by simply saying, "Goodbye, Andy," it's probably the most frankly he's ever spoken on a record.
"Forever Changed" live
"Hello It's Me" live
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